First Date
by Rantzilla
Summary: Norway goes on his first date with Denmark.


First Date

Our first real date. That's what this was, right? I have flowers, I have an itchy suit on in 80 degree weather, it's midday on a Saturday… the setting is perfect. Well, aside from the fact that I have to go and visit him rather than us meeting halfway.

I found myself nearly scowling at this fact, but caught myself quickly, reminding myself of the occasion and how ridiculous it would be to be angry at someone for something they can't control.

…That is a little hypocritical of me though, considering

The sky is very gray today, even though it's cloudless and very, very warm. Or at least that's what the weather forecast was. I'm actually kind of cold to be honest...

It's a dreary walk through the park to my destination, where kids are laughing and enjoying themselves and parents are watching them and smiling and conversing with other adults and having a good time and it is all so very sickening to watch so I have to turn away.

Everything about today is irritating, actually. The suit. The cold. The kids. The monotony of it all. This date. I don't really want to go, but he would be upset if I didn't, and frowning doesn't suit him. Neither does crying, but that doesn't change the fact that I

I'm finally to the end of the damn park and I make a right. I know at this point my destination is pretty close so I tense in anticipation. What do I say to him, exactly? This is our first ever date. What do people talk about on dates anyway? I don't think I've ever been on one… I can't even remember. My mind's already drawing a blank, how am I supposed to talk to him? What do I say? What do I do? How do I even _begin _to-

I inhale deeply to calm my nerves, breathing it all out through my nose. The road, despite being lined with shops and packed with the afternoon Saturday crowd, seems long and bleak and gray but I trek on, checking my watch which lets me know I'm already thirty minutes late. Good. It's not like he has anywhere else to be anyway.

I think about laughing, but I don't know the sound nor the motions. What's wrong with me? ...Why would I want to laugh in the first place? This isn't a time for merriment… it's a time for

Suddenly the black gates loom before me, tall and intimidating, but I enter anyway, knowing exactly where to find him. I pick my way carefully through the grass, careful not to trip over any of the stone and making a mental note of where all of them lay, since I know I'm going to be traveling this path a lot.

Then I sense it. His eyes upon me. I slow down and keep my eyes to the ground as I approach, I feel the wrapper holding the flowers twisting beneath my white-knuckled grasp but I don't bother to loosen my grip, if it tears it doesn't really matter.

Staring at the ground, I notice something. The grass is gray.

I gather myself and my thoughts and plop myself down on the ground, not caring much about the state of my suit. I know he can see me from my position, and I, him, if I so choose to look up. Which I probably won't. Depends on my mood and how well this goes.

The wrapper tears.

Oh, the flowers!

"Theseareforyou!" I say nearly incoherently, shoving the flowers along the ground and toward him. He does not reply and I find myself tensing more. Does he find it strange that I brought him flowers? Especially since

I wring my hands nervously in my lap, the awkward silence getting to me a little bit. Normally it wouldn't bother me, seeing as I enjoy silence more than anything in the world. Well, sort of. But this silence was different. It is uncomfortable and he is never this quiet and it worries me that he is quiet now because how will I be able to forgive myself if he can't give me a proper answer when I apologize to him about

In. Out. Breathing exercises really don't work that well.

...If he won't talk first I suppose I will have to take the lead. But what should I say? I mean, there's the weather, of course, but I'll be damned if I ever use that as a topic for when I'm on a date with this fool. He'd probably laugh it off and pretend it's a joke, if he wasn't

"Remember that time," even I hear the tremor in my voice, and it makes my confidence plummet even further. I clear my throat. "..That time when we were at the super market, buying ingredients for Tino's birthday cake? Ha ha… That was the first time that you told me we would make a good husband and wife… I believe I hit you that time.. I did that a lot. Sorry."

"_Hahaha! It's alright, Norge! I know that it's just a love tap, and I'm perfectly fine with that~"_

"Sorry…"

That time we were in the pub and I had a little too much to drink.

"_Haha! Oh, Norge! You're so adorable! I could just eat you up, but I won't because you don't like PDA and when I do it you always scold me and ignore me for awhile… I don't like that very much but it's okay because it's you and I know that you'll just end up forgiving me and talk to me again because you secretly adore me! Haha! You're blushin- OW!"_

"…sorry…"

That time at the New Year's party when I accused you of

"…_Ha.. What do you mean, Norge? I'm not… I don't… I have to go!"_

"I'm so, so, sorry…"

That time that you came crashing into my apartment to tell me that you

"_I love you! I'm _in _love with you! Okay? But I didn't want to tell you because I knew it would ruin our friendship and I didn't want that, I didn't-"_

"Stop… Stop… I'm sorry… I'm sorry sorry_ sorry sorry!"_

That time I told you to leave and then you_  
><em>

"…_Get out? But, Norge-"_

"Don't go, please, I need you, I'm so sorry I didn't mean anything I said I didn't mean it I didn't-"

That time that you actually listened and you told me that you

"_Fine… I'll go… but promise me that you'll see me after this and tell me how you feel…_"

"I promise, I do, but I can't see you, you liar, you said I'd see you and then you-"

That time you didn't give me time to respond and you

"_I'm really sorry, Norge…"_

"You shouldn't be! I'm sorry! _I'm _sorry!"

That time you were leaving and you

"_I love you…"_

"Denmark…"

That time you said those things and _left _like a _coward_

"…_I love you, Norge…"_

"Denmark, _please!_"

But I was the coward

"_Even if you don't feel the same way-"_

"…_sorry…"_

I let you go_  
><em>

"_Even if you never say it back-"_

"…_so sorry…"_

And you walked out that door_  
><em>

"_Even if I have to die a lonely man-"_

"All my fault, all my fault…"

I couldn't open my mouth to stop you

"_I will never,"_

"You shouldn't have, I should have stopped you…"

And you didn't come back, you didn't come

"_Ever,"_

"You didn't have to, _I would have told you_…."

That time that I last saw you alive

"_Stop loving you."_

"_Denmark_," my head hurt, he was there, right here, right in front of me but I couldn't hold him I couldn't feel him I couldn't touch him and it was cold, so cold and there was no color without him, none, and I love him so much so, so much but he left and he is gone and this cold, rough stone beneath my fingertips with his name and his birthday this is not him, this is not Denmark, _my _Denmark. "Why did you leave me? Why! You made me _promise! _I promised to see you and you left, Denmark, _you left_ and now you can't come back and how will I tell you now? _How?_"

This headstone in my arms, this stone pressed against my cheek, this is what I have left of him? This is what I have to look forward to? Visiting a dead man day after day because I was fool enough to fall in love with such an idiot. With his smile, with his corny jokes, with his idiocy and his skill to always manage to make me smile?

"And you _left, you left me_," these tears would change nothing but they won't stop. I can't make them stop because just the thought of losing him is something I cannot bear, and the reality? I did lose him. And it was all my fault, he left, and he left me and that car and that place and that _idiot that hit him but didn't have a goddamn scratch! _If I can't bear the thought then I can't live in this reality, I don't _want _to live in this reality. This cold, grey reality where he is absent and everything else is so dull and freezing and I can't look at someone smiling without thinking of him and how much better his smile is and how I'm so jealous of them and why couldn't they have gotten hit instead of him? _Why him, God, why HIM? _Such a good person, such an AMAZING person had to die when there are so many other horrible people in this world, God, WHY?

There were agonized screams, and I take awhile to realize it's me who's making them.

Don't you get smug, either, because I'm not crying for you. I'm crying for us. For what could have been, what could have happened had I stopped you and told you instead of being a coward and letting you walk out that door with your confident stride and unfaltering steps as you marched with head raised straight to your death. You're an idiot, Denmark, an _idiot._

_And I fell for you the first time you made me smile._

When I see you again, I'll tell you, but for now I'm keeping it to myself. My cries would fall on deaf ears anyway.

No point talking to dead men.

I lean back from the grave and wipe my snot and tears away with the sleeve of my suit because I honestly don't give a damn. I stand up and pat some of the dirt off my pants, then I bend to pick up the abandoned bouquet and prop it up against the tombstone like everyone else does but I've never had to do myself.

The quiet is back again, but this time it's comfortable. Everything that needed to be said was said and I'm pretty sure he's forgiven me...

"_Hahaha! Norge, how could I ever blame you for that? And you say _I'm _the stupid one! Pff, even I know when I'm not in the wrong over something. Just like how I know seven times seven is-! Uh… Umm.. Fooortyyy….ssssseveeee-"_

"_Nine."_

"_Forty-nine! HA! Told you I could do math good!"_

I snort. Then I giggle. Then I'm full-out laughing in front of his grave in the middle of a cemetery, realizing how crazy I must look but not caring in the least.

I don't stop for awhile, and when I do I have to wipe away more tears from my face. He can even make me laugh when he's dead. Guess he was worth my time then… sort of.

As I prepare myself to leave, the smile stays on my face, unfamiliar but not unwelcome, and I don't even stop when I get strange looks from other visitors of the cemetery. I don't even stop when a woman accidentally stomps on my toe with her heel. I don't even stop when I realize, halfway home, that I dropped my watch at the cemetery.

I continue on my way, knowing it doesn't matter, since I'm going to be back there tomorrow anyway.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **

So apparently someone is confused about the unfinished sentences, to prevent further confusion I'm making this note. They are INTENTIONAL, as I was going for a string of consciousness type story, so if a sentence cuts off randomly it's because Norge forces himself to think about something else or his thoughts are just changing really fast. Yes. I hope this helped. **  
><strong>

Inspiration? I was on dA and looking at a SasuNaru picture when all of a sudden REVIEW ALERT! It was a review for my SuFin creepy story and I reread the reviews for it, one said I should do it again because I was good at creepy stories. So yeah. This.

This isn't really what I originally had in mind, originally I was going to do Norge bringing up random stories and then doing flashbacks for them. But that would take too long. So I just did this. :P

I used the nation names because I like them better than the fandom names. And I like the nickname "Norge." It is adorable.

Thanks for reading!


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